


a sun that does not swear to shine

by imaginarypasta



Category: Devilman (Anime & Manga)
Genre: (i'll put it in the notes in the chapter before), Body Horror, Canon Rewrite, Canon-Typical Violence, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Not A Fix-It, Time Loop, Underage Drinking, Underage Smoking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-27
Updated: 2019-01-27
Packaged: 2019-09-28 11:44:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 16,440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17182364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imaginarypasta/pseuds/imaginarypasta
Summary: Somewhat of a retelling, with aspects of each iteration that I like included and ones that I don't omitted.





	1. more things in heaven and earth

The first thing he realizes is warmth. The sun is hot on his back, and the tufts of blond only just reach the bottom of his neck.

The boy beside him says a name he both recognizes and doesn’t all at once. “Ryo,” laughs the voice, “You’re totally spaced out. What are you thinking about?”

There is a strange buzz around him, like the static at the bottom of a slide; he knows where he is, who he is, but he can’t shake the feeling he’s just woken up from some long sleep.

“Akira,” he responds, voice strange and unfamiliar in his throat. The boy is dark, shaded even in the summer sun; cicadas buzz around, in tune with the boy’s breathing. His hair curls in dark locks around his eyes, which smile brighter than the sun and are framed by long, dark lashes. Around them glows yellow, and this is the only thing keeping him from being immersed in darkness. Beside them is a lake; children are playing nearby, and a pang of longing hits him in the chest.

“What?” the boy asks, placing his hand nearby the other boy on their shared blanket. He wants to reach out and let their hands touch, but he can’t ask that of a stranger. The boy peers at his shoulders. “You’re getting a sunburn. Do you want to go back?”

He nods, an unsure movement becoming more certain as it goes on. The boy -- Akira -- stands and offers him a hand. He takes it, it’s smooth, and hauls himself up. Akira begins to gather up the blankets and Ryo just stands there, taking in everything all at once.

* * *

They sit in a red Audi Quattro Coupe, Ryo in the driver’s seat with a cigarette hanging from between his lips and Akira reclining lazily next to him. The windows are rolled down and the windless day is conquered by the speed of the car. He knows the way home without knowing how.

“I had fun today,” Akira says. His eyes are closed and his head is tilted far back. It’s not quite sunset, and the golden light reflects off his skin, making him glow like riches; he’s beautiful. “Didn’t you?”

Ryo mumbles a reply, taking his eyes off Akira to place onto the deserted road. “Why did we come out here?” he asks.

“Mmm,” Akira sighs. “You always need a reason.” Ryo can hear the smile in his voice. “Sometimes things are just for fun. Besides…”

He does not continue speaking, so Ryo says, “Besides?”

“I just wanted to have one last day. You know, before you leave.”

“I’m not leaving.” It is not quite a lie, he knows.

“You’re switching schools. I won’t see you as much.”

He looks for a moment at the boy, still oblivious to his staring and shrouded in light, “I’ll make sure you do.”

* * *

It is not raining on the day his dog dies, but he wishes it were. One man’s tears mean nothing when the sky is crying. He’s not sure if the day his father dies is better or worse.

* * *

He gets to the school long before Akira, and he’s sitting in his car, engine off and vehicle filled with smoke, behind a bush, waiting for him to walk out. Miki is with him when he does, attached to his arm, head on his shoulder. He says something, and Miki laughs as his face turns red.

Ryo sees the group of men walking up to them long before they make contact; his hand goes to his gun on the passenger seat, but he does not yet get up. Akira and Miki walk away, only to be stared at by the men; they yell at them from a distance and Miki runs over to punch one of them.

She lands a solid hit on his neck, one that’ll leave a mark and that knocks the wind out of him. He grins at that; he doesn’t mind Miki so much as he minds her with Akira. The latter grabs her by the hand to pull her away, but she’s not done. She punches and kicks the men a few more times as they try to do the same, before a particularly buff one grabs her hands and paralyzes her. Ryo pulls his gun toward him and unlocks the door.

He calls his name; it feels like it’s been an eternity since he last saw him, but he’d recognize the messy hair and terrible posture anywhere. Ryo can tell he doesn’t recognize him at first; from this far away he might as well be a stranger -- in the mere month since their last speaking, he stands several inches taller, presents with twice as many bags under his eyes, and wears a large trench coat and sunglasses that obstruct all of his face that his hair doesn’t.

“I need you for something; let’s go,” he says.

“I’m in the middle of something,” Akira responds, although he is clearly too cowardly to jump into the fight to save Miki.

“I suppose you are,” he returns, drops his cigarette butt to the ground, and draws the gun from underneath his coat. He points it at the men. “You should let her go.” The man smiles and before he opens his mouth, Ryo takes a shot and the bullet skirts the ground, barely missing the man beside Miki, whose scream is stifled by the piercing look Ryo sends her. “Don’t make me ask again.”

The man lets Miki go, and he and his buddies run off into the distance. Ryo turns away from them, “Let’s go.”

“Um…” Akira mutters, and Ryo reluctantly twists his head around to see Miki with a look of indignation on her face.

“Indeed, this is a dilemma.” He frowns. “I suppose we can drop her off at her house.”

“Not quite what I meant,” Akira says through gritted teeth.

“Isn’t it?” Ryo smirks.

“It’s alright; I’ll walk home.” She stares at them for a long pause before turning around and walking home. “Stay safe!” she calls as she’s leaving.

* * *

He tells him about his father in the car and he doesn’t even have to tell himself not to cry the tears are so far gone.

“I’m totally alone,” he says, but he does not feel even an inkling of despondence anymore.

“Suicide…” Akira whispers, “Do you want to talk about it?”

“Not in the way you think I want to.”

* * *

Three locks isn’t enough -- to keep something out or in, he’s not sure.

Inside is the same house he grew up in, but now it’s cold in the way empty old houses can be. There is no love in there, just emptiness, loss. It’s just a house, no longer a home. Akira can feel it too, he can tell; he didn’t come here often, but he was never a stranger. Now he acts like one, “Should I take my shoes off?”

His words are unkind, his voice irritated, “I don’t give a shit.” He wishes to reach out and have Akira hold him. He wishes for anyone to hold him. He is too small for this big, empty house. He is too small for these big, empty words. He can’t quite bring himself to say something.

He talks about his father. It’s one of the things they used to relate over, their parents’ professions in archeology. That seems like so long ago, someone else’s lifetime. Thirty days becomes thirty years in a moment. He tells him about the center of the Earth, the ice-cold core people believe is made of fire. He shows him the artifact.

He screams. “Relax,” Ryo says. “It’s dead.”

From the doorway, Akira hesitates, “Dead?”

It looks like a devil, a mass of sharp teeth and bulging eyes, its face and head just imperfect enough to look real, and just disgusting enough to be terrifying. He smiles when Akira agrees.

Akira doesn’t come into the room fully until his curiosity finally gets the better of him. He doesn’t want to put it on, though; Ryo knows the past can be too much for people sometimes. But Akira needs to see; he can’t go into this blind.

“Only by looking into the past can you understand what may occur in the future," he explains. "It's part of my father’s legacy.” With that, he agrees.

He screams, and Ryo can see the visions dancing along his pupils, tiny stop-motion movies of a different world. “It’s hideous!”

* * *

They are in the front room, Akira hunched over and still sweating, Ryo back against the wall, eyes on all parts of the room for danger. He hands Akira a glass of water. Their hands brush for a moment. His skin is warm.

“Well, all I can say is I’m damn glad there aren’t any demons around these days. Just seeing what they got up to is enough to make me know the world’s better off now.”

“Yeah, it would be. If it were really free of them.” He’s in danger now; it was selfishness that brought Akira into this -- he couldn’t do this alone -- and it was selfishness that would get him out -- he wouldn’t let them put a damn scratch on him.

Akira’s mad, when it’s all done being told to him. He doesn’t quite believe it yet, and this pokes at Ryo’s patience. He doesn’t want him to be angry, but more than that he doesn’t want him to be oblivious.

Akira asks about his father, his desire to join with a demon overpowering him and eventually killing him. It’s nothing but hubris to think he can do better than his father, and it’s nothing but love blinding him to think the same for Akira. Fortunately for him, love isn’t always a liar, and he hopes that for this, that sentiment stands true.

The glass breaks suddenly, and Ryo can feel several cuts on his face and hands appear. He hardly had a moment to think before the giant tentacles came crashing through the roof. “They’re here,” he shouts, unable to locate Akira in the chaos, “The demons are here!”

He grabs Akira’s wrist and they run through the house, down twisting hallways and through identical rooms Ryo once called home. The demon isn’t far behind, inches behind them at every turn.

When they finally get a lead, Ryo reaches into his coat for his shotgun, flicking off the safety and shooting with one hand, “Suck on this.” A fiery blast leaves the barrel of the gun, smoke clouding the room after them as they run away.

They’re escaping demons each second, cursing and sputtering from fear and exertion. By the time they finally get to the car, the demons are out the door.

“Hurry up!” Akira yells from the backseat.

“Hold on back there,” Ryo responds, backing up with hardly a glance behind him. The music in the car from earlier sets his hair on fire; his pulse quickens, and he can feel his heart beating in his chest.

The demon jumps in front of the car, and Ryo doesn’t have time to stop, “Die.” Akira’s breath hitches in the backseat, but Ryo doesn’t have the luxury to care right now. Behind the car speeding off down the road runs the demon he just ran over. Ryo tosses him his gun.

“I don’t know how it works,” Akira stutters.

“Just point it and pull the trigger!” he calls from the front seat, pushing steadily on the accelerator. He curses under his breath.

A sound of determination comes from Akira’s throat. The safety clicks off. Prior to an opening for chance, though, comes the sound of Akira screaming. In the mirrors, Ryo can see him rise a few inches into the air for a moment.

“What is it?” Ryo asks, and then his attention is turned to the huge tree bottom-up in the road. “Fuck!” His car is going to quickly now, the speed making the wheel too hard to control, and it takes all his strength to press the gas hard enough to stop the vehicle before it hits the tree; he’s close to making it, but it comes to a messy stop, the tree’s branch leaving a nasty mark in the red paint.

A demon screams from outside, and another from the seat below Akira. “Akira, get the fuck out of here, there’s one behind you. Get out!”

He pushes on the door, but it’s jammed. “What am I gonna do?”

“Idiot!” Ryo exclaims, his eyes tearing between his friend and the scene of chaos around the car. “Break the window.”

Akira obeys and jumps out, landing on his shoulder. Ryo reaches for the gun, narrowly avoiding a spray of purple acid as he grabs it. He shoots the acid demon before breaking another window and slipping his torso out.

As another screeching devil runs toward them, Ryo reloads the gun. He’s about to shoot when the car is shaken violently, sending him flying out the window and toward the ground. Akira catches him by the arms before he hits the asphalt. Ryo regains his balance and shoots the demon. The blood splashes on his face and clothes.

“Come on!” Ryo shouts and begins to run; Akira follows close behind.

He turns back for a moment to shoot another blast, this time at the car, the smoke billowing around him and turning the world yellow and white for a moment. It’s strangely familiar, and there is a deep discomfort in his bones, like something is not quite right. The vehicle explodes in an eruption of gas and flames, lighting the night up red.

His breath is heavy, “That’s finished the fucker.”

Akira sighs as he sits on the floor; Ryo finishes loading his gun and turns toward him. He walks over the rubble of his car and the street to stand next to him. He crouches down so their eyes are level.

“They’re real,” Akira whispers.

“Yes,” Ryo says, wiping the blood off his face. It’s dried a bit, leaving a dark red stain on his skin. “Akira, I’m so sorry.” Behind him, the fire still laps at their feet. “But you’re my only friend and I need help. Believe me, if there was any other way for me to fight these things alone, I would’ve done so. But the fact is I’m just not strong enough. I can only hope you’ll forgive me.”

“It’s okay, Ryo,” Akira says quietly. Ryo stands and dusts off his pants, then reaches out a hand to help Akira up. Akira’s arm has just barely elevated when a slow creaking sound comes from behind them, and something grabs Ryo’s leg, slamming him to the ground.

The torn-up tendons of the demon they’d seemed to have just obliterated keep a firm grasp on him, and the gun Akira had grabbed after Ryo dropped it. It opens its skin to reveal a pink, gooey substance inside of it. Akira screams.

“Shoot it!” Ryo yells, before it pulls him farther. He can feel the bruises forming on his ankle. He pulls back, sounds of struggle escaping from his mouth as he fights against the beast. “Shoot it!” he repeats, this time more urgently.

He can hear Akira struggling, against the demon’s grasp and his own heart, so he jumps in front of him, closer to the demon than Ryo is, and shoots it. The thing goes limp, releasing its grasp on Ryo.

Akira is shaking, his breath uneven. Tears well up in his eyes as he backs away, gun still aimed at it. Ryo reaches out a hand for him, but he runs into it and jumps, pointing the gun toward him as he does. He’s crying now, as he lowers the barrel.

“Akira,” Ryo whispers. He places a hand on his shoulder. “It’s over.” He pulls Akira into his chest.  “You did it. It’s dead.” It takes a moment, but Akira’s breath slows, and he picks his head up. “Come on, we should get back to the house.”

* * *

The night air is cold on their skin as they run. It’s difficult to see, but they know the area well, and they only trip a few times. Nearby, a lake’s small waves crash along a beach.

The house is visible, now; the moon is dull tonight, and there’s only one light left on in the house -- the foyer light, glowing yellow amidst trees and debris. It’s all they have to follow.

It’s quieter in there now, as they sneak through the window. It was quiet earlier, but now it’s silent in the way only destruction allows for; every sound they make echoes along the concrete walls and flooring. Their footsteps roar in the stillness.

Ryo enters a code in a panel on the ground, and a door opens. The sound makes a demon, a spidery beast, turn toward them. “Shit,” Akira hisses. They run through the door, slamming it on the thing. It twitches where it was cut in half.

* * *

“So this is the end of the line” Akira says.

“Well, that depends.”

“On what?”

“How far you’re prepared to go to fight them.”

Akira stares at Ryo, his eyes ablaze, “You name it, I’ll do it.” Ryo’s mouth opens without a command. “It’s okay, I’ll do whatever has to be done. Whatever it takes, someone has to stop these bastards.” He closes his eyes; even in the dark, the tears from before still glitter on his lashes.

“Alright then,” Ryo responds, averting his gaze. “There’s only one way possible for a human being to fully defeat a demonic entity. You must become one with a demon. Understand?” Akira gasps. “I must warn you, if you allow the demon you join with to take possession of your soul, you will burn in hell.” He tucks his head into his chest, and Akira only stares.

They walk through the darkness, down stairs and hallways, and come to a metallic door illuminated by a solitary lightbulb above it.

“You have to be absolutely sure now.” Ryo tells him. “You can’t go back.”

“Are you going to try and join with a demon as well?” Ryo nods. “Alright, if you’re prepared to give it a try, then so am I. Let’s go get some demons.”

Ryo smiles at the passion in his face. They look at each other for a long time, before pulling each other into an embrace so tight they can feel the other’s heartbeat.

“Once the door opens, there can be no going back.” And the door clicks open.

* * *

The music is so loud, Akira has to plug his ears; the bass sends earthquakes between the ground and their feet. Akira grips Ryo’s shoulder, pulls himself to his height, and yells, “It’s loud in here. Not really what I was expecting.” Ryo turns to look at him -- their vision is lit up blue and red and green -- and laughs, then turns his head to the crowd and beckons at the club with his free arm.

Ryo walks passed the crowd -- the nude people dance without much respect of boundaries, drunk and high and intoxicated -- without batting an eye, pulling a shocked Akira through the bodies.

As they finally find a seat, a red velvet sofa, Ryo pulls Akira close to him and brings him onto the seat beside him. He takes a French fry from an abandoned dish on a nearby table and eats it.

“Ryo,” Akira scowls, pulling away from him.

“Calm down,” Ryo says, “This is a modern version of an ancient ritual known as a Sabbath.” He explains the Sabbath to Akira, who responds by inching back closer to Ryo to hear more clearly.

“I see, so in order to fuse with a demon, we need to abandon our powers of human reason.”

“Precisely.” Ryo responds. He grabs a beer from beside him and offers it to Akira after taking a quick swig, “Drink this.”

“Wait,” Akira pauses before taking the bottle, “Won’t all these people become demons, too?”

“Yes, but I haven’t told them about demons, so they won’t know what’s coming. And when they fuse with them and attack us, we’ll have no choice to destroy them.”

“You’re crazy!” Ryo smiles at that. “How can we possibly fight this lot? Look at them all -- we’ll be cut to ribbons! Surely you can see we don’t stand a chance-”

The noise becomes too much for Ryo all at once and he yells, “Just shut the fuck up and listen to me!” He breaths in and his voice returns to its usual coolness, “If we can’t beat this bunch of no-hopers then we may as well give up. Remember, we’ll have to destroy thousands of demons if we want to save Earth. We have to hope we’ll join with the demons capable of beating this lot. Otherwise it’s a waste of time… I’ve told you all along this is going to be very, very risky. But we have to remember what’s at stake here is more than just our lives -- it’s the future of the entire planet.” Ryo can feel the tenseness of Akira’s body beside him.

A girl with long hair and no shirt approaches them; she glances between them, at first making eye contact with Ryo, but his look of disinterest moves her to Akira. She makes a move to sit on his lap, breasts in his face, before leaning back a few inches. “Hi there, good-looking. Come and have a dance with me and my friends; we’ll show you a hell of a good time.” She stands up herself, then pulls him up and to the dance floor. Ryo can hear Akira calling for him as he is dragged over.

He sees Akira surrounded by bodies and sweat; he is stiff for a moment, until the girl that brought him over takes his hands and begins to dance with him. And then he makes his move.

He slams the bottle on the wall, the end of the glass shattering until it is a circle of sharp, tiny points.

The girl screams, and he can’t help but smile at the blood that rushes down her chest, clinging to the folds of her body and dripping to the floor in a pile of crimson. Her scream is hardly louder than the music, but it’s enough to draw Akira’s attention.

“There’s only one other fucking thing needed for the Sabbath,” he shouts to him, “and that’s plenty of blood!” He begins to run through the crowd, stabbing and scratching people as he moves without stop. They’re going to die anyway.

He laughs as he drops the bottle onto the floor with a crash; by now the only sound is the music still playing, the bass shaking the room, the crowd has gone silent. He punches the first man that comes up to him after that, but gets cornered by a group of men that punch him until his head goes limp on his neck. As the men leave him in a heap on the floor, several more people run to kick him.

“Fucking hellfire!” he hears Akira yell, the sound getting closer with every phoneme. His voice keeps coming, but the sound gets muffled between the swollen openings of his ears. Through the creases between two black eyes, he sees Akira get punched.

He doesn’t need to see or hear to know what happens next; the rumbling can be felt in his bones. And then there is perfect stillness and silence; the music has turned off and people are watching something in shock. He cranes his neck up and pries open his eyes to watch.

The girl’s body contorts and twists until her bones crack and skin stretches off. She’s not making any noise, although her mouth is open and she’s clearly trying to. Everyone just watches. And then her eyeball reaches from her head and into the air, her breasts open to reveal mouths full of sharp teeth and sticky saliva, her limbs multiply and snap into disgusting, crooked positions.

It happens to several more people -- the elongating, bending of the body into inhuman forms or breaking into chunks of flesh. No one can do anything but watch in silence.

When they’re finally formed, the demons let out a terrible war cry, and the people left finally erupt into hysterics, gathering up in the far end of the room. Something steps on his body as they approach the crowd and he can feel his bones cracking beneath their foot.

Akira runs to Ryo, stuck on the floor, and tries to pull him up.

“Do you feel any change happening inside you?” Ryo asks urgently, struggling to get away from Akira’s grasp; his breathing is labored.

“No, nothing,” Akira responds.

Ryo grimaces, “Then somehow we fucked up.” He turns to look at the army of demons facing them. “Badly.” They charge them, and it takes all Ryo has to get up and run; Akira tries to help him along, but they’re separated by a particularly slimy demon.

Ryo falls to the floor, vision totally gone and hearing just barely intact; he hears the pained cries of Akira from far away, and then the presence of an entirely new voice saying something he can’t quite understand.

There’s so much noise, his head nearly erupts, until there is silence. Warm hands touch his back and legs, and he feels himself lifted into the air; the places where his bones have broken sting. Funny, this isn’t how he thought death would feel. The distinct feeling of a quick pulse and fast breath is close to him, but he is paralyzed. He feels the shakes of a body crying as he is clutched to his chest.

* * *

The next thing he sees is the white ceiling of a hospital room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> someone tell this bitch to stop monologuing every five seconds


	2. the chirping birds

To those who would argue that silence is the ideal environment for contemplation, Ryo would like to give a speech filled of nothing but expletives. He finds his mind dulled by the consistent droning of nurses who seem to think he cannot hear their dialogues about him, the beeping of the heart monitor, and the wind as it blows through the window beside his head. He cannot speak or think, and he is fairly certain this is where he will die.

But one day, after hours of the sun hitting him directly in one eye, a doctor tells him he can stand and walk around. She calls for a nurse to help him up, and he can only stare at himself in the mirror.

His usual near-feminine, notably cherubic beauty, matched with porcelain skin, blue eyes, and full lips, is exchanged for purple and yellow bruises around his face, a cut and swollen lip, and huge bags under his eyes; his figure is wrapped in bandages and casts and he feels heavy with every breath.

* * *

Fingers drum upon the windowsill and a woman’s voice is broadcast throughout the building; a nurse helps him to put a robe on over his dressings, while three or four nurses watch and giggle through the door. Perhaps his face has healed somewhat.

Akira barges in suddenly, form and face more filled-out than Ryo remembered the last time he saw him; Ryo’s not sure it’s him, he looks so different. He’s no taller, and only slightly more muscular, but he has a stronger presence now. His eyes are surrounded by darker lashes now, so thick and black he looks almost to be wearing eyeliner. The blue shirt on him is unbuttoned too low, so his pectorals peek out of the opening and the rest of the fabric falls flatteringly upon his torso; Ryo’s cheeks go red.

“Hello,” Ryo says, and Akira’s face returns the gesture, so he looks down at the floor. A small breath comes from his throat, one that does not seem entirely manual.

“You seem very well.”

“Yeah,” he smirks, and the nurse exits, “My doctor works miracles, and the nurses are filled with… dedication.” Akira laughs. “Anyway, how are things with you?”

Akira turns his glance back to him, “Things are pretty much the same; you know how it is.”

The nurse pokes her head through the door, “Mr. Asuka needs to rest as much as possible, so try not to tire him out.” Akira’s mouth rounds out and his face goes sheepish, erasing all doubts that he was gone after the night a few weeks ago.

Ryo feels the sudden presence of fatigue, so he sits upon his bed; Akira rushes to his side. “Are you all right?”

“Fine, just tired,” he sighs. Akira smiles, and he can see two sharp teeth on either side of his mouth poke out from between his lips.

“Can you go outside?”

Ryo shrugs, and Akira helps him up; he’s surprised to see he is still taller than him, despite the demon.

* * *

The sun shines down on his face as it shrinks into the horizon, and the wind ruffles his hair; it’s been a while since he’s styled it, so it is a bit wavier than it is normally. It’s long enough in the back to pull into a ponytail, and he suspects he will do that soon. A bird sings loudly nearby.

“It was awful,” Akira says, from beside him, “Seeing what they did to my father. What they made him do to my mother. Stuff like that makes me think I shouldn’t have become the Devilman; I’m their kin now.”

“That’s crap,” Ryo exclaims, and the outburst is so much, it hurts his ribs. He steadies himself on the balcony, “Sometimes you look similar, but that’s the extent of it. You’re nothing like them, Akira.”

“I suppose you’re right,” he says, hands clasped on the railing, bent at the waist, and looking into the pink sky. “I guess it’s just something I have to deal with, you know.”

He’s not sure what to say, so he lets Akira stare at the setting sun in silence, although his heavy breathing does not give much room for that. Finally, he says, “I think we should do this more. I mean, me. And you. We go out, kill the demons-”

“Okay.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Those bastards are hurting people. And we’re the only ones that can protect them.”

* * *

On the day he returns home, he finds his house littered with debris from the battle, but is so exhausted from the car ride, he passes out on the couch. He awakens to Akira shaking his shoulder. Around them, rain beats down hard on the roof.

“Ryo, wake up.” He pries his eyelids open. “Are you good?”

“I’m fine,” he says, and brings himself to a seated position. He notices the fearful brightness in Akira’s eyes and snaps into focus immediately, “What’s wrong?”

“I had this… vision.”

“Vision…” Ryo echoes, a bit caught off guard.

“But it wasn’t a vision. Maybe a dream? Only, I was actually there, standing in this iceberg-type thing. I thought it was the memories of the demon I melded with.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, Amon. But then I saw you, and you were stabbing Miki, and I was trying to stop you.” Ryo nods for him to continue, keeping his face cold. “But then _I_ was stabbing Miki, and the floor shattered below me and I was falling for a long time. And then I saw thousands of people, bloody and lifeless, and there was blood on my hands and I knew it was my fault.”

He waits a moment to conjure up some words, “You’re going to save them, Akira. I’ll make sure of it.” The words feel familiar in his mouth, and he can taste the lie on them from before.

“I just remember the feeling of fear, like how I used to be so cowardly, but not exactly. Like, my body had all the same reactions, but _I_ wasn’t scared.” Ryo’s eyes widen as he makes a distinction between him then and now; he supposes he has been doing the same, but now it ismore permanent, being said aloud by Akira himself.

“If it really was the demon’s memories or thoughts or whatever, it could have been his fear.”

“ _His_ fear?” Ryo nods. “So there’s something more powerful out there than me.”

“We’ll stop whatever it is, remember?” They listen to the rain in the dark for a while.

“Um…” Akira says, and indicates his clothes still dripping with rainwater. “Can I sleep here tonight? And can I get some dry clothes?”

* * *

The light of the lamp and the full moon is enveloped by Akira’s presence, as he comes out of Ryo’s room in gray sweatpants. Ryo tosses him a t-shirt, but not before noting the giant scars on either side of his neck.

“Where did those come from?” he asks. “That demon you fought tonight?”

Akira shakes his head, “No, these have been here ever since I fused with Amon.”

Ryo gently places a hand on one of the scars and traces its edges. His eyes go from the scar tissue to Akira’s reddened face, and, upon seeing it, he jumps back instantly. “Sorry.”

He clears his throat. “I’ve been healing quickly ever since. But these won’t go away.”

“Mmm,” Ryo returns absentmindedly, still focused on the scars, hands wrapped around his elbows. Akira averts his eyes, and Ryo follows suit. “Do you feel different?”

Akira considers, “Stronger, maybe.”

“I presumed as much.”

“I guess I have a lot more… energy,” he admits, although Ryo can tell that’s not exactly what he wants to say; he supposes the words are too difficult to come by. “Thanks for letting me take the bed.”

“No problem,” Ryo says.

“I feel bad since you just got back from the hospital. Seems like you need it more than me.”

“I’m a little beaten up, not _dying_ , it’s all good. Besides, I haven’t been sleeping well in there since my dad anyway, so…” Akira frowns, and he quickly changes the subject. “Do you need anything else? Glass of water? Extra blankets?”

“Oh, uh, I’m all right, thanks.”

“Sure.” Ryo turns to leave the room, but stops to say, “Good night.”

* * *

He wakes up in a cold sweat, with the distinct feeling that something is wrong. He goes to his room to find Akira gone, the room a mess, the clothes he lent Akira torn upon the ground and window shattered with glass lining the floor, so he grabs his gun and a cloak and runs out into the darkness.

* * *

He doesn’t know how he knows where to go, but he takes his father’s old convertible and eventually finds himself at the top of a tall building, standing on the edge of a crane. The wind shakes the structure, but every nerve in his body tells him to stand here.

And then it appears, a bright white dot in the distance, and as it gets closer, he can see it is the form of a demon, holding a small mass between chicken-like feet. He shoots his gun twice, missing the first but hitting her the second, and he watches as the mass falls toward the city below, before transforming into Devilman and soaring into the air.

Immediately, the demon’s detached arm comes barreling toward him, pushing him back on the crane. It pins him to a spot dangerously close to the edge of the plank, and as it finally leaves, he summons all of his strength to pull himself up and walk back to safety atop the building.

By the time he can stop to look, Akira and the unidentified demon are long gone, although the honks and tires screeching below tell him they are not far off.

* * *

With the sounds of a battle as his guide, Ryo races to a forest on the side of town, one in which he and Akira had spent many summer days playing as kids. Now, it is a battlefield, and he watches from a distance his friend fight in a body he is only beginning to fathom as his own against a demon with white skin and hair and huge, feathered wings.

It’s mostly impossible to see, but he finally gets close as the demon comes to a standstill on a nearby mound of earth, and can see Akira’s body revert to normal, except for the large wound on his side from where his arm was ripped off. Ryo finds and retrieves the arm, and places it next to Akira, unsure of what to do. He drapes his cape over Akira’s nude body.

He refuses to leave him to find a phone to call the hospital -– and even if he did, he wasn’t sure it would be the best idea -– so he sits there until he wakes up, but not before falling asleep beside his friend.

He wakes to Akira cracking his knuckles, and sees his arm reattached to his body.

“This body isn’t so bad, huh,” Akira laughs; above him is a halo of gold as the day is born.

“So you’ve woken up,” Ryo says, “I’m glad.”

“Am I even alive?”

“Was it that bad a fight?”

“I lost my arm.” He rubs his eyes. “What are you doing here?”

“I was asleep and I felt something; I could sense you were in some kind of danger.” He smiles and looks at the sky. “I probably just heard the door slam or something when you left.” He cocks an eyebrow at Akira, “Or maybe something was telling me you needed help.”

“Shit,” Akira yells suddenly, and jumps to his feet. “You’re in danger here; that demon Sirene will be coming any second now.”

“I don’t think she will. Look.” He points to her statuesque stance a few dozen meters away.

“What happened?” Akira asks.

Ryo shrugs. “You’re the only one who’d know.” Akira sits next to him and they watch the sunrise together. “So you’re good with fighting demons like this?”

“Absolutely. As long as you’re by my side.”

Ryo turns to him and grins in a way he can only bring himself to do around Akira. “Always.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> he's a babe even in fluorescent lighting


	3. the most sublime act

He’s standing on the side of the road, on one of the several places the road curves to accommodate the mountain, peering at the forest through binoculars. He doesn’t have to be close to Akira to know he can hear him, he knows now. It’s been weeks since their demon hunting began, and they’re becoming experts at it now.

“They’re definitely using the forest as a base, but that’s expected with demons with an intelligence level above zero.”

“So what’s the plan? Just wait until they show up?” Ryo can hear Akira’s voice in his head.

“That would be reckless,” he says, and moves the binoculars from his eyes for a moment to get a clear view of the entire picture. “No, we’ll wait until we can triangulate a specific location, and go from there.”

“What’s their deal anyway?”

“The demons? They want to eat, I presume.”

“Then what?”

“Th-” Ryo falters. “There is no _then what_. They’re demons, they don’t have…” he sighs. “Aspirations or anything.” He can hear Akira’s struggle with this from here; he doesn’t need words to notice the feeling of confusion and what can almost be considered anger clouding his head. “If you’re going to do that, I’ll have to ask you to stop talking to me.”

The feeling subsides and he hears, “Sorry. I’m trying to get better at controlling my telepathy.”

Ryo lets out a breath that is not quite a sigh. “It’s fine. So tonight let’s just-”

He’s cut off as Akira exclaims, “Shit! Ryo, I’ll talk to you later.”

And then his mind, previously slightly fuzzy with the sound of television static, becomes clear once again, and this nothingness only emphasizes how little he knows about the demon.

* * *

“Miki caught me on the roof today,” Akira says from behind him, as Ryo shuffles through the contents of his car’s trunk.

“Transforming?” he asks, coming up with a shotgun and some bullets, the latter of which he uses to load the former.

“Luckily, no. I don’t think she’d ever talk to me again if she saw my true form.”

“Your true form?” Ryo gasps; he’s not sure whether this bothers him or not.

“I mean, me as Devilman.”

“I know what you meant,” he hisses, but quickly evens his voice. “But yes, I suppose she wouldn’t be a fan of knowing it, much less seeing it,” Ryo smiles, trying to hide the expression in his jacket and slamming the trunk shut. “Anyway, what’s the big deal if she sees you ditching?”

“She doesn’t want me to skip school anymore.”

He wheels around to look at Akira. “And?”

“ _And_ ," he mimics. "I won’t be skipping class anymore.”

Ryo blinks and goes to say something snarky, but stops himself. “We’re doing this for the good of humanity.”

“Yeah, but if I don’t listen to her, she’ll be mad.” Ryo crosses his arms and starts to tap his foot on the asphalt.

“Okay,” he says coolly.

“You’re cool with that?”

“Yes,” he says. “I mean, it’s not like I have much choice, is there? There’s nothing wrong with school, per se… I suppose she doesn’t have malevolent intentions, although it does seem a bit… tedious now. To have you attending, I mean.”

Akira stares at him. “Why did you drop out?”

“I didn’t. I graduated.”

“So early?”

“I tested out." He's stuttering a bit now. "Does it _matter_?”

“I guess not,” Akira says, kicking a hole in the dirt with his shoe. “I just thought, with your dad…”

“My dad’s dead.”

“I _know_ , I just meant I thought it’s what he would’ve wanted.”

“What he _wanted_ was to stop a demon from hurting people. I can only assume he’d want to stop _all_ demons from hurting people, if he were still here. He’d prioritize _that_ over school.”

He isn’t sure what is making him so angry, but he can feel the blood rushing to his cheeks and turns away quickly to get into the driver’s seat. “Do you need a ride home?” he asks, and Akira’s slide into the seat beside him is answer enough.

* * *

The sun has long since disappeared into the ground by the time Akira comes to the outskirts of the forest.

“Remember,” Ryo says, without looking up from the flashlight he has aimed at a map of the forest, pen pressed in between his teeth at the side of his mouth. “No fighting tonight, we’re just making note of their behaviors.”

“Sure, right.” Akira says absentmindedly. He’s eating a cheeseburger and Ryo scowls at it, though Akira doesn’t seem to see the motion.

It’s not long of the night air pushing the map out of Ryo’s hands ever-so-slightly before he gets annoyed and throws it in the back of the car, pressing the bridge of his nose between his fingers as the radio plays softly in the background.

“What’s wrong?”

“I just can’t seem to find exactly where they’re located,” he begins. “I’m thinking they’re-”

Akira interrupts him by slamming his hand over his mouth; his skin is warm, his lips barely graze his rough skin, and the intimacy makes his heart beat a little faster. But Akira isn’t focused on that; he’s looking at a small batch of leaves shaking slightly in the night, while all the other branches remain still in the short lull of wind. A second later, the wind is back up, leaves moving in equal step, and Akira is hunched over, sneaking up to the edge of the forest.

“Akira…” Ryo says, but his voice is so low he’s not sure Akira can even hear it until he puts up a hand telling him to stay put.

The moment Akira races into the forest, transforming as he runs, Ryo reaches into his car and grabs his shotgun.

The fight is interminable, as they tend to go, though with each new enemy, they’ve been getting longer and longer. He becomes anxious every time the forest goes quiet, and he can feel his pulse begin again once the noise begins again, in the form of a scream from Akira or something slamming into the ground or birds flying in a collective from their resting spot.

When Akira comes back, limping slightly and totally nude, Ryo hands him his coat and gets silently in the car.

“You were supposed to wait,” Ryo frowns as they drive toward his house.

“It was close.” Akira responds.

“We were going to track its behaviors.”

“I took it down, didn’t I?” His voice is becoming agitated.

“That’s not important right now-”

“Oh?” Akira asks indignantly, “Why not?”

Ryo lets out a shaky breath, “Because you could’ve gotten hurt.”

“I didn’t.”

“You were limping when you came back.”

Akira is silent for a long time and then says, “You missed the turn for Miki’s.”

“We’re going to my place.”

“I promised I’d be home tonight.”

“You can’t go home like _that_. They’ll suspect something is up. We’ll get you cleaned up; you’ll be healed by tomorrow, and then you can make up something to explain in the morning.”

* * *

At his house, Ryo is meticulous in putting disinfectant and bandages on each cut, however small. “We don’t know if you can get infections or not as Devilman,” he explains, and Akira laughs at this.

“I got my arm cut off and I was fine,” he argues. Ryo raises an eyebrow as he peers up at him, but says nothing.

When he finishes, he says, “There’s clothes in the dresser. And you know how to work the shower. Help yourself to anything in the kitchen. You know where the bedroom is.” He goes to stand, but Akira catches his arm.

“Are you sure it’s fine to take your room?” Ryo shakes his head in cold indifference. “You’re still not sleeping in there?”

“No, I don’t really want to.” He shudders at the memory of waking to his father holding the knife to his throat and summoning all his strength to push him off.

“Try it, just for tonight.”

“Where will you sleep?” he asks. “I closed off my dad’s room as soon as he was gone. And you’re not sleeping on the couch; if you accidentally transform while asleep or whatever, I’m not sacrificing a place to sit.”

Akira shrugs.

* * *

They’re lying in Ryo’s bed; he can remember them doing this as children, although the memory is faint in his mind. Ryo’s back is against Akira’s and he faces the wall, forming little pictures in the drywall in what little light the moon shines into the window.

He can feel every breath, the thick, ragged ones of snoring, as they ripple through the mattress, and the heartbeat that shakes Ryo’s own veins. There’s something relaxing about being this close to him, even if they are so far from touching, and, for a moment, it feels as though they are the only two creatures in existence.

* * *

He wakes with a shudder, his body sticky with the sweat of a nightmare, and that of large arms wrapped tightly around him, making his skin go hot. His face is pressed up against Akira’s bare chest, and he wonders why he’s not wearing a shirt, but his face goes warm when he realizes he’s wearing nothing but briefs either -- Ryo's own, he realizes belatedly.

“Akira,” he whispers, not really caring if he wakes him up. When Akira doesn’t stir, he says it a bit louder, “Akira!” He jolts awake, eyes wide in surprise and Ryo can see the little antenna breaking off from the skin on his forehead. “It’s okay. It’s just me.”

“Ryo! What’s wrong?”

“Can you,” he struggles, as Akira seems to have squeezed him tighter, which would have seemed to be impossible if not for the nearly suffocating feeling around his heart. “Can you let me go?”

“Oh!” Akira exclaims, and releases his arms so Ryo can turn back toward the wall. “Sorry, you were having a nightmare. I wasn’t sure what else to do.”

“It’s fine,” he whispers, curling in on himself to maximize the space between them. “Goodnight.”

Once he can hear Akira’s snores again from beside him, he realizes the slight draft in his room. He’s not quite sure what possesses him to do it, but with all the care in the world, he scoops up Akira’s arm and places it back over him, cuddling close to his warm skin and letting his heartbeat rock him to sleep.

* * *

Ryo wakes first, slides out from under Akira’s arm, which is in the exact position he left it, and walks to the kitchen where he makes a pot of coffee. It’s still early, and he doesn’t need to wake Akira to go to school for at least an hour.

The sun shines through the window, the light catching on the little glass pyramid Ryo’s father bought from him when he was younger. He can’t quite put his finger on it, but the memory seems distant, almost like it was told to him in a story, not experienced first-hand.

He’s not sure how long he sits there, contemplating his past, before Akira walks in, yawning and finally wearing pants -- sweats of Ryo’s from a trip to Greenland with his father from the last year. “Morning,” he says, voice still hoarse from sleep. He stretches as he goes through the fridge for something to eat, finally settling on an orange from the counter beside it.

As he peels the orange, he asks, “Did you sleep well last night?”

Ryo’s not sure if this is a trick. On one hand, _he_ was the one who suggested they sleep in the same bed -- which could mean nothing -- and the one who cradled Ryo like a child for hours of the night; on the other, Ryo did ask him to stop before wrapping his arm around him once more. He can't be sure if Akira knows this. He nods.

“That’s good. You woke me up the one time, with the nightmare. You were kicking and crying and even talking in your sleep, saying…” His voice falters and Ryo can’t be sure why.

“No, I was fine.” He watches from atop the island as Akira eats his orange. “Is that all you need to eat?”

“I…” Akira taps his finger on the counter, and Ryo furrows his brows at this. “I ate a lot last night.”

“Did you?” he says suspiciously.

“Yeah… um, the demon.” He’s nervous to say it, Ryo notices, and when he doesn’t take note, he can see Akira’s shoulders lose tension.

“You’ve been more aggressive,” he says, matter-of-factly. Akira hangs his head and nods. “And… hungry?” Akira repeats the motion. “Well, I guess we’ll have to get you more food more often, then,” he says, clapping his hands together. He grabs his car keys off the table. “Let’s get you to school.” His grin falters, “You should get dressed first, though.”

* * *

Ryo waits for Akira in the diner, a cup of coffee between his hands, yet to be consumed; he’s been here nearly a half hour already, and is beginning to become impatient. Finally, Akira appears and sits down across the booth from him, calling over a waitress and ordering a whole table of food.

“Do you want something?” he asks Ryo, who shakes his head and gestures at his untouched cup. “Thank you,” he says to the waitress, and she leaves.

“Anyway, I’ve been monitoring the papers and radio and police scanners for sightings and run-ins with demons,” he explains.

“Oh, hold on, Ryo,” Akira grins, and stands to greet Miki with a hug. Ryo exchanges a tired glance with a potted plant that decorates the table and Miki slides into the booth next to him; he finds himself squeezing up against the wall to avoid her touch.

“Hello, Ryo, it’s good to see you,” she smiles.

“It’s a pleasure, I’m sure,” he tries to smile politely, but no expression comes out. “But Akira and I have some very important business to attend to and-”

“I invited her to help us.” Akira interrupts.

Ryo blinks. “You… um, you what?”

“Miki’s here to help,” he announces too loudly, and a few patrons turn to look at them.

“Akira says this is really important and we need all the help we can get. He says the fate of humanity is in our hands.” She laughs, and Ryo slouches into his shoulders.

“So… how much do you know?” Ryo asks. The waitress comes by and delivers the food to Akira, which he happily begins eating. Miki smiles the whole time and grabs a fry from his plate. She offers one to Ryo. He does not acknowledge the gesture. “What did Akira tell you?”

She chomps down on the fry, “Oh, just that demons exist and whatnot, and that we’re fighting them to protect humanity. The basics.”

“Anything else?” he asks, and frowns when he sees Akira shaking his head at him, Miki blissfully unaware of the private conversation going on between them as she compares the various meals on the table. “All right,” he sighs, and Miki snaps her attention back to the pair. “So there’s been a few sightings on the outskirts of the forest; I’m thinking they’re related to the disappearances.”

“Disappearances? I haven’t heard anything,” Akira returns.

“I expected as much,” Ryo says. “It’s been a few days at most, a lot of runaways. Not really covered in the media.” Miki’s eyebrows knit together. He explains, “No one’s looking for them. So it’s our job to find them. Or what’s left of them.” This does not seem to appease her, and she tucks her chin into her chest.

“What’s the plan?” Akira asks.

“I’m thinking we stake out the forest, watch for a bit. Once we know what we’re up against, it’ll be easier to fight them.”

“But if people are in danger, we need to move fast,” Akira protests.

“We’ll move in vain if we’re not careful.”

“What do you care? It’s not like _you’ll_ be out there,” Akira says, and his voice is venom, slipping its way into Ryo’s blood and filling it with terrible poison.

“I’m…” Miki coughs, and stands up. “I’m going to go to the restroom. Excuse me.” She leaves, and Ryo rubs his temples with his fingers.

“ _I’m_ here for you, Akira,” he says icily.

“But I’m the one doing the fighting.” Akira notes. “You’re not in any danger.”

He taps his fingers impatiently on the table. “Why did you bring her?” he asks.

“She’s my friend,” he answers. “I didn’t want to lie to her. Besides, _you_ said she would start to suspect something if we kept sneaking around. Thought it was better to just tell her.”

“She’ll get hurt if you’re not careful,” he informs Akira, although he can’t really say he cares.

“I’ll protect her.”

“But you don’t want to tell her you’re Devilman?”

“That’s not an option.”

“You can’t have both, Akira.”

His face goes dark. “Yes, I can.”

“Protect her and be exposed, or she gets hurt and our secret is safe. Those are the two options.”

“ _Our_ secret?” he hisses. “This is _mine_ to deal with.”

“I’m the reason you’re like this,” Ryo snaps.

“Yeah,” Akira growls. “You are.” He grabs his bag and stands up. “Look, you do the research or whatever, and I’ll show up when you tell me to. I’ll see you later, Ryo.” He stomps off; Miki comes out of the restroom and, upon seeing him, changes her path to follow him.

Ryo slumps down in his seat and sighs.

* * *

“Hey,” he says over the phone that night. There is no moon, so the sky is dark outside his window. He can hear Akira breathing on the other end, but he does not speak, so Ryo continues, “They’re spiders. Or, people with spiders for heads. Demons, I mean.”

“Okay.”

“I think we can get them tonight. You can get them.”

“Sure. Where should I meet you?”

“The West entrance to the forest,” he says. “Also, um… if you want Miki to help, I’ll make sure she doesn’t find out about you.”

Akira’s breath slows. “Oh… thanks, Ryo. I’ll be there in a bit.”

* * *

As it generally goes, Ryo misses most of the fight. He can hear the skirmish in the forest, but it’s not until later that they reappear. Akira is bloodied, in human form, and his body is limp on the ground. Beside him lay three lifeless forms without heads. Ryo drapes his coat over Akira and helps him up.

“How are you doing?” he asks.

“Not fantastic, but I’ve been in worse shape.”

He’s hesitant to ask, but he does regardless, trying to muffle the question over the start of the car engine. “Why didn’t you bring Miki?”

“Oh, she had homework.” They’re silent after that, the radio the only noise in the car aside from the rumble of the engine and Akira’s labored breathing.

When he winces in pain as they hit a pothole, Ryo says, “We can get you to my house and clean you up there.”

“I told Miki I’d be home.”

“ _Fuck_ , you have to stop telling them that.” Ryo stops to look at him and sighs. “You’re beaten to a pulp, Akira.”

“She’ll help me clean up.”

He blinks slowly and changes his tone to a softer one to mask the hurt. “Um… okay. I have extra clothes in my trunk, and I’ll take you home.”

“Thanks, Ryo.”

* * *

He watches Akira limp up to the door from the car, the darkness of the night wrapping him in a blanket of black. He sees Miki at the door, grab his shoulders with wide eyes and pull him inside and Ryo is left alone.

He doesn’t hear from Akira until late the next morning, and the call begins with a hearty laugh from Akira.

“Hey, Ryo!”

“Are you all right? She patched you up?”

“Sure, most of the cuts are already gone.”

“He has quite a few bruises,” he hears Miki call. “What on earth are you guys _doing_?”

“You should be careful. Lie down, get some rest.”

“Sure, sure.” Akira says, voice far, like the phone is a foot or so from his face. He laughs. “I’ll have to call you back later. Let me know if anything else comes up.” The line goes dead.

* * *

Ryo wakes up in an alley, and his head is fuzzy; he checks his watch, only to find it shattered and coated in yellowy blood. His stomach lurches and he walks to the nearest payphone.

Akira’s voice comes from the other end, and it’s the first time he’s heard it in days, “Hello?”

“Akira,” he says, but he’s not quite sure what to say next.

“Ryo? Are you all right?”

“I think so,” he frowns. “But can you come pick me up?”

* * *

His arms wrap tightly around Akira’s waist and his head presses into his neck and they speed down the streets on his motorcycle.

“Where did you get this thing anyway?” Ryo asks.

“Around,” Akira shouts behind him.

“What does that mean?” He can see Akira smirk, his sharper teeth overlapping his bottom lip. “Did you steal it?” Akira doesn’t answer.

They drive for a few more miles, Ryo’s hands pressed tightly onto his bare stomach, as the wind pulls his shirt up, gripping with all his strength, hoping he doesn’t fall off the bike. When they finally pull to a stop at the edge of his property, he practically jumps off, and they walk up the driveway to his house. Ryo reaches into his pocket for his house key, but finds it empty, save for a pack of cigarettes, which he takes out and proceeds to light. He communicates this much to Akira.

“I can get us up there,” Akira offers.

“Us?” Without any other warning, Akira grabs his waist and drags him flying up into the air; the cigarette falls from his mouth onto the dirt below, and he feels himself pulled toward a window and shoved in, onto the floor. “ _Shit_ ,” he murmurs, scooping broken glass into his hands. “You could’ve just unlocked the door for me.”

“Scared of heights or something?” he grins. “What were you doing in town anyway?”

Ryo furrows his eyebrows. “Hunting demons.” Akira chuckles. “I’m serious.”

Akira glowers at him, “You’re supposed to _find_ the demons. _I_ fight them.”

“I know,” he sighs.

“You should’ve called me.”

“I know,” he repeats, bordering on annoyed.

“You could’ve been terribly hurt.”

“I _know_ ," he snaps; he burns red-hot on the edges and he takes a moment to calm down.

“I just don’t want you to get hurt, you know?”

Ryo nods solemnly.

“What happened?” Ryo shrugs, and Akira’s face goes dark. “No, really, what happened?”

“I don’t remember. I blacked out. Last thing I remember is tailing a professor I thought might be a demon. Then I woke up in an alley and called you.”

* * *

Miki stands in the middle of a clearing in the forest, Akira and Ryo a few feet away, masked in the trees.

It’s not long before the demon, one covered in fur and tentacles and stretched-out human skin, arrives, and for Miki to respond by tripping over her own feet as she tries to run away. He raises an eyebrow, surprised that a girl so normally ready to fight would be scared. Ryo shoots the gun, hitting it square in the jaw, but it doesn’t react. He shoots over and over, not missing once, until he runs out of bullets and he and Akira exchange the quickest of glances.

“Help her,” Akira growls, and Ryo’s running over to Miki before he can think. He shields her with his body, though he can’t say he’s happy about it. Luckily, the demon has turned its attention to Akira

From a few yards away, Akira’s body quakes in the familiar way it does when he is about to transform into Devilman.

“Don’t look at me,” he shouts. “Miki, don’t look.”

Miki stutters in response, “But Ryo is-”

“You can’t see this,” he yells, voice becoming gruffer and not his own.

Ryo watches as Miki covers her eyes and Akira’s body broadens into the winged form he has come to know so well. It’s like a second skin to him it seems, his favorite outfit, one with furry legs and greening skin and towering horns and enormous bat-like wings that encapsulate darkness itself.

Objectively, he can understand why Akira doesn’t want Miki to see; he’s sort of terrifying like this, tall and giant and far from human. Personally, though, Ryo cannot seem to find what is so unappealing; to him, Devilman is the embodiment of strength, and that matched with Akira’s kind soul make for the perfect being.

Beside him, he can hear Miki’s soft tears, muffled in her hands. He’s not sure what she’s crying about.

“They’re real,” she’s whispering, over and over.

“What are? Demons?” Ryo asks, voice even, and he can tell his scares Miki.

“I thought it was a game, a joke.” Before he can say anything, Akira has his hand on her back as he pulls her away from the scene, and the demon has been ripped to shreds behind them.

* * *

He wakes in the center of the forest, a large gash torn in his stomach, and he groans when he sits up. He limps around for what seems like hours, lost in the maze of trees, before finding his car parked on the side of the road. He reaches into the trunk and pulls out the first aid kit before tending to his wounds, wincing and groaning with every movement.

The car shakes along with his bones as he drives home; yet again, he can’t recall what brought him to this location, although this time he decides not to tell Akira.

He’s not sure how or why, but he knows he’s losing Akira; perhaps more importantly, he knows he’s losing himself.

* * *

It’s hours into tomorrow when Akira breaks in through the window, waking Ryo from a dead sleep. He’s bleeding, _badly_ , onto the carpet; his face is almost a balloon with how puffy it is.

“What happened?” he hisses, jumping from bed and moving Akira to the bathroom without another word.

Ryo works quickly and carefully to stitch up Akira’s wounds. “This was a bad one, huh?” he asks.

“You could say that,” Akira responds, only to wince as he finishes the first suture. “Youch.”

“Sorry,” Ryo hisses; his blue eyes peek through golden lashes to look at Akira’s face. His eyes are squished up in pain and his heart pounds through his chest. “I’m almost done.” He finishes the stitches as quickly as he can and then helps Akira to the couch, where he lays down and buries his head in a pillow; Ryo sits beside him on the floor.

“What were you fighting?” Ryo asks, and Akira groans before speaking.

“Some demon. Strange looking, but mostly blended into the forest. Maybe it merged with some sort of chameleon? I’m not sure. Caught me off guard.”

“You didn’t seek it out? _It_ jumped on you? That means it's getting worse.”

Akira is silent for a long moment. “I didn’t say that.” Silence fills the room.

“I’ve been thinking,” Ryo begins, and Akira pops his head up attentively. “Maybe this demon-hunting business isn’t such a good idea.”

Akira appears dumbfounded, “What are you talking about, Ryo?”

“I just,” he sighs. “It’s clearly not good for your health, and I’m worried about you.” There’s something in his mind and in his voice that tell him and Akira both that he is not telling the full truth.

“I appreciate that, but we agreed it was for the good of humanity. It’s my duty.”

“You came to my house beaten and bloody and in tears. Duty or not, it’s hurting you.” By extension, it’s hurting him, too.

Akira shakes his head, “We have to protect the humans.”

“Why?”

“W-why?” Akira sputters. “This was your idea, Ryo. Your father’s legacy.”

He closes his eyes. “You know how when they kill all the wolves in a forest and everything starts to die because the environment can’t deal with not having predators?”

“I guess…”

“What if it’s like that? What if demons are humans’ natural predators and we’re making a huge mistake and destroying the ecosystem? What if we’re killing humans by trying to save them?” He opens one eye to see Akira pacing beside the wall; he didn’t even hear him get up. He slides onto the couch where Akira just was.

“I can’t believe you’re saying this, Ryo,” Akira says breathlessly.

“Calm down, it was only an idea.”

“ _No_ ,” Akira snaps, and he can see the brown of his eyes disappearing into the cloudy white of Devilman’s. He has never been scared around Akira, and he stands in defiance. After a moment of heavy breathing, his eyes return to normal. “You can’t say shit like that. It’s wrong.”

“All right,” he contends, “I won’t do it again.” With that, Akira leaves the room in a huff.


	4. angel of light

Ryo is standing in a crowded shopping mall; on either side of him, people shove passed, their goals for consumption all that matters. Fluorescent lights dangle from a glass ceiling faux wood covers the guard railings, and decorative tiles cover the floor. Akira is somewhere nearby, buying churros or pretzels or something.

“Is this all we are,” he says to nobody in particular, “A population with an insatiable desire for _things_ , our actions and words and very creations reflecting this pitiful hunger?” He doubts _he_ ’s any better, though.

It happens quickly, and all at once; the man window shopping by some luxury store he can’t read the name of with its terribly convoluted font doubles over and screams, before his body changes. His jaw lengthens, and his eyes grow terribly large; the demon is not even close to taking over when he drops dead.

He calls silently for Akira.

And then a woman, carrying grocery bags and walking with two friends, suddenly grows a huge horn from her forehead, her fingers web together, and the skin on her back bubbles up. She grabs her face and he can hear the strangled cry before she falls to the floor.

He knows the telepathy only works when Akira wants it to, but he’s still nervous he’s not responding; he should’ve turned it on the moment this all started, though Ryo’s not even sure if the same thing is happening, wherever he is.

Another woman is screaming at this from a few yards away when her own flesh melts into a puddle of gooey red, taking on eyes and a horrific mouth full of teeth. She comes forward a bit, with movements that can by no means be called steps, before her body hardens right there, frozen.

Akira is nowhere to be seen.

Ryo can feel the sweat begin to bead on his forehead, his head races trying to decide what just happened. They’re transforming around him now, faster than he can blink, into monsters so far from human, even the weathered veteran of fighting these beasts is petrified.

“It’s the dawn of a new era,” he says as he absconds from the mall. “It’s the end of peace.” What’s left of the crowd is following him. “It’s begun.” He can’t be sure they made it out the doors behind him. He hopes Akira did, at least.

As soon as he gets outside, he’s forced to dodge a car as it veers off the road and into a stoplight. From the center of the wreck sits a mangled body with a head that’s far from human.

“They want to make us dance to the sound of the devil’s flute,” he whispers to himself. “To the beat of the devil’s drum. A dance of madness.” His voice shakes. “A dance of death. They want to destroy the future of mankind.” His face shines with dread now; he’s horrified. “It’s the dance of hell.”

“Ryo,” says a voice behind him suddenly, grabbing his shoulders and pulling him down an alley. “I’ve been looking for you. I tried to transform, but they came too quickly. And the children… Oh, God, the children.” Akira’s on the verge of tears, and Ryo’s unsure of what to do. “Why are they dying?”

“I think… I think…” Ryo’s raking his brain, trying to determine their goals, their shortcomings, _anything_. And then it clicks. “It’s to scare us. They’re merging indiscriminately, so that people do die. They’re sacrificing themselves to start the war.”

“They’re like an army,” Akira remarks. “But for every one of us that dies, so does one of theirs. There has to be more humans than demons, so that doesn’t make sense.”

“Yes, it does,” Ryo says, pinching the bridge of his nose. “They found mankind’s weak spot.”

“Which is what?”

“How do you think I feel right now, Akira?” Ryo asks, searching his face for something besides sadness.

“I mean, I’m torn up. I’m devastated.”

Ryo sighs, “You don’t understand because you’re not a man anymore.” He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. “I am _terrified_ , Akira. At any moment, I could be taken over by a demon. At any moment, I could _die_. I wouldn’t host a demon, I wouldn’t become a Devilman. I would just be a corpse, one of so, so many already.” Akira is speechless. “They’re playing to our fears. They’re showing themselves to us on purpose. We’ll destroy ourselves from the inside out.”

He says it while his voice is shaking, but as soon as the words pass his lips, he’s calm -- apathetic, even.

“You really think humans are so weak? Fear itself is enough to drive people crazy? Humans have courage, which lets them-” he stumbles, “Us, _us_ … conquer fear. And knowledge. And powerful weapons. When the world finds out about demons, they’ll team up to stop them.”

Akira’s words should arouse something in Ryo, whether in agreement or not, but they don’t; instead, they fall flat upon someone who has already decided he doesn’t care.

“It doesn’t matter,” Ryo says quietly. “You know what will happen. They will blow up the world with bombs and shoot it dead with guns, trying to destroy this new evil. Millions of people will die just to wipe them out, if we can even do that. The weapons you say will save humanity will end it.”

Akira’s tears roll down his cheeks, forming a river below him. Ryo can’t say the same for his own.

“How will you save mankind,” he demands, “when mankind is now your enemy?”

* * *

The sky is dark, although it is mid-morning, and Ryo sits in his front room, beside the phone, sipping on a bottle of alcohol. When the blackness came, it was not sudden, but gradual, like tens of thousands of birds flying so high above the sky it casts a shadow; in the sky, with its back pressed up against the atmosphere, stands a giant demon.

Ryo has seen on the news that they can see it throughout the world – its like looking at the moon – and it’s legs hardly make a dent in the ocean. He’s heard that people in certain parts of the world can feel its hot breath on their faces and bodies, and others bear the gaze of its striking eyes. It’s a monster with four faces, each ghastlier than the last.

He dials on the phone and remarks coolly, upon Akira’s answer, “Go outside and look at the sky.” The line goes quiet, presumably because he dropped the phone to check, if Ryo knows anything about Akira, so he clicks the receiver down onto the base.

Its booming voice can be heard even through Ryo’s walls, and he hears it as it challenges mankind to some futile battle. “Under my orders, we will destroy humanity. You have one hour to prepare. We are the devil’s army.”

And then it vanishes, and the sky turns a crystalline blue that’s too happy, too hopeful, for the end of days.

* * *

Akira comes barreling in through the door, and Ryo hasn’t moved from his spot, reclined on the sofa, although his bottle has long run dry. He’s heard countless gunshots, and sounds similar but thousands of times louder, people banging on his doors, begging to be let in, and the silence that follows all this noise.

“I thought you’d never get here,” he says.

“I’m glad you’re here. You heard what happened, I’m sure.”

Ryo nods. “Akira,” he begins slowly. “You don’t have to fight.”

Akira looks taken aback. “What?”

“I mean, you can’t do this by yourself.” He looks up at him through heavy lids, golden eyelashes weighing down his flesh. Even in his drunken haze, his mind works quickly. “Don’t try anything foolish.”

“Ryo…”

His eyes turn to the clock as it strikes ten. “This is history, Akira. It begins now.”

Outside, it appears as though it is snowing, although winter won’t be for a few months.

“Have you gone mad? You want me to _sit_ here?”

“Sit down,” Ryo asks, and when Akira refuses, he narrows his eyes but does not press him further. “You have to think about this. You could go out and kill one or two demons. But what good will that do? This is a _war_ , not a fight, not even a battle. I’m not saying you don’t fight at all. Devilman is the only hope humanity has. If you die now, there will be no chance at victory.”

Akira opens his mouth to speak, but says nothing.

“We don’t know how many demons there are. We don’t know how powerful they are. We can’t be reckless.”

“But so many people will die.”

“And so many demons will die, too,” he retorts. “Think strategically, tactfully, practically. There won’t be a second attack, because the demons are counting on the fact that humans that survive will prefer death and suicide to another round.”

He opens the window, and they watch as the sky becomes crowded with demons of all shapes and sizes. Ryo wonders what the people were firing at before they came, but he can’t say he’s overwhelmed by the question.

Behind them, the news plays on silent, and they are left to watch the carnage unfold from a television screen. Missiles and nuclear bombs have hit on every major continent, and almost every country is in a state of panic.

“In a mere moment has the world descended into chaos, Akira. You’re watching it happen. _This_ is the strength of demons. No, this is the strength of humans.”

Akira looks at him, without moving, for a long time, before turning and walking through the door.

“Where are you going?” he asks urgently. “You can’t leave.” He grabs Akira’s hand and turns him around to look at him. “Don’t you see? What you do now won’t change a thing. You don’t have to fight now. You _can’t_ fight now.”

Amidst all this indifference toward humanity’s unknown future, a singular constant remains in Ryo’s heart. He begs and begs Akira to stay, the other boy saying nothing at all, just staring at him with this terrible expression, a cross between pity and depression. It starts an angry fire in his heart.

A tear falls from his eye, “I can’t just sit here and watch.”

Ryo slams himself in front of the door. “Akira,” he cries. “Don’t go. Don’t leave me.”

“You can’t ask me to stay at a time like this.”

“You’ll get hurt. You _can’t_ get hurt.”

“If I don’t, people will die.”

“Be reasonable.” He knows he looks foolish like this, sobbing, with his face red and eyes wet, but he can’t help it.

“For once,” Akira sighs, “I think I _am_ being the reasonable one.”

“I won’t let you die.”

“I won’t die that easy.”

A million thoughts come to Ryo’s mind, but the chief one, a declaration of his adoration for this man he’s known for what feels like centuries, is what halts any of them from coming through. Instead of words, he opens the door for Akira.

As he is leaving, he musters up the courage for a goodbye, “Please be safe.”

He’s left alone, in a mass on the ground, cheeks wet with tears; his body shakes, from cold and from heartache, and he’s sure he’ll never see Akira again. He has never regretted anything so much as allowing – no, _forcing_ – Akira to join with a demon.

The sky is still burning red with the flames; he doesn’t know if someone lit them to cremate the humans or the city or the idea of society, but he watches them burn and all he can think about is whether Akira will come out alive.

* * *

He can hardly sleep, but the next time he wakes, Akira is lying next to him on the bed. He jumps up in surprise and shakes the man awake.

“Akira… Akira,” he whispers. Outside, the sky is dark, and the stars that once dotted the night sky are extinguished.

“How did I get here?”

“You mean you didn’t come here yourself?” He shrugs, and Ryo notes the startling lack of bruises or cuts. “You healed remarkably quickly.”

“No, I didn’t.” Akira says, and Ryo raises an eyebrow. “They said they weren’t allowed to hurt me.”

“Who? The demons?”

“Yeah, they kept saying it was the will of Satan, to leave Devilman unharmed.”

Ryo’s pulse quickens. “Satan?” He shakes his head. “Never mind that. I’m glad to see you’re alive.”

“How are things out there?”

“I can turn on the news, if you want to see it. I just woke up.”

Akira nods, and they walk to the front room, where Ryo tries to turn on the television, only to find the station dead, and it refuses to show anything besides static. After they check, they find the radio and walkie-talkies don’t offer much help, either.

He hangs his head as he sits upon the couch. “I saw so many people die, and I couldn’t _do_ anything.”

“You understand why I didn’t want you to leave? They’re killing relentlessly – and I don’t just mean the demons.” Ryo’s voice is cold, but he holds Akira’s hand and it’s warm. “It’s so dangerous out there. I wouldn’t be surprised if humans went extinct after this. Do we even have a chance?”

“There’s still you and I, at least.” Ryo smiles solemnly at him. “We’ll carry on the human race.”

“Or, perhaps just their legacy. We’ll inspire the future, if there is one, with their pride and honor.”

Akira grabs him by the shirt. “What the fuck are you saying? I’m not fighting for my life, or for the legacy of humans! I’m fighting to keep people _alive_ , Ryo. I couldn’t give less of a shit about human pride or honor. I want to protect their lives.”

He drops him, and he falls to the ground in a heap. “You can’t beat them all yourself.”

“And I won’t.”

“I can’t help you now.”

“I didn’t _mean_ you.”

“Then who? Miki? Are you finally going to tell her the truth about yourself?”

“There’s other Devilmen.” Ryo’s eyes widen, and this makes Akira grin. “We’re going to stop the demons.” Something inside him ruptures, and he doesn’t know if its hope or fear or something else entirely.

Outside, there is a flash, and their eyes move to the window, where white light pours in; Ryo screams, a sudden pain searing his flesh and his innards. He falls to the floor, cowering from the rays; Akira runs to hold him or help him or something, but Ryo pushes him away quickly. His touch only brings more pain.

“Don’t touch me!” he screams. “Get away!” Outside, they can hear planes go down and cars crash and people screaming. “Get the f…” He cries out as his skin burns. “Get the fucking blinds!” Akira pulls the curtains over the window, so the room goes dark.

Ryo is clutching his arms, rocking himself with his head pushed into his knees.

“I’ll stop it, Ryo. I promise.” Before Ryo can say goodbye, Akira is gone.

* * *

Ryo is sure he’s never been more alone, and if he has, he relishes in the fact that he cannot remember that moment. There’s an unimaginable silence now, as the world goes still outside, because the war is coming to a close, not by surrender but my annihilation of the enemy of the demons.

He listens to the reports; those about deaths and those with warnings and those telling of the experiments on demons that promise a weapon to destroy them. He’s not surprised by any of it, and it worries him as he realizes he was never surprised about the demons’ existence in the first place, nor his father’s death, nor humans’ reactions and the recent tragedies. The only thing that has brought him any sort of shock since this discovery was Akira’s own actions.

He wonders if Akira is safe.

He considers the facts: the demon corps’ existence, the apparent resurgence of demons coming with their arrival, Akira’s tendency to jump into the fray. He knows what’s going on out there; even if he was more cautious than he’s ever been, people are killing faster than they are breathing. Even if the demons won't touch him, the humans will; they'll tear Akira apart, and he won't raise a hand to them. He assumes the worst, and it shatters his heart.


	5. to love and be loved

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning for suicide [attempt] in this chapter; skip to the first line break/second part

Ryo feels the pain in his heart, the aftermath of some terrible deed he’s done, and he thinks for a moment it might be guilt, but he knows deep down that’s not it.

It’s remorse, but at the same time it isn’t; he feels like he’s wrestling some vague, unknown Other, who possesses him and forces him to hurt the one he loves.

And yet, there is no other voice whispering into his mind to make him do these things; it’s all "him," but it’s not _him_ , he _knows_ it’s not him, so he can’t determine why he’s doing it.

He’s clawing at the walls of his mind, straining himself to try to figure it out, all the while doing the same to the walls of his home. Ryo is surrounded by shredded wallpaper and drywall, torn up couches and pillows, shattered vases and windows.

The mirrors are all either covered or broken – his father must have been a man of greater vanity than he thought, he now thinks – because he can’t bear to look at himself. His eyes have long since sunken into his skull, his skin is ashen, and his hair falls in strings against his forehead and neck.

He finds himself crying more than anything, trying to drown himself in the shower or snoring away his sorrows, high on sleeping medication. Ryo can’t figure out the point where it all went wrong: where he lost his mind, his humanity, his _love_.

And then he sees him; he swallows the lights that are left, burns out the candles and cuts the electricity. It’s dark around them, and Ryo is no longer trapped by these burning visions.

He reaches his body up from where he’d fallen to the ground in a fit of madness, stretching his neck until their faces are inches apart, until their lips are almost connected. He can feel his hot breath on his face, sees the way the moonlight bounces in dark eyes, notes the way his chest falls up and down as he breathes.

He smiles grimly, as he pulls back from the almost-embrace, and in Ryo’s hands he places one of the photo albums his father used to stuff with countless pictures of the family. He sits it beside him and turns his attention back to him, with his beautiful darkness and perfect face.

Akira vanishes as quickly as he appears, and Ryo finds himself clutching a bottle of vodka, curled up on the bed he sometimes slept on, searching every last inch of it for the smell of him.

When he can’t find what he’s looking for, he turns his attention to the album Ryo always thought was stupid. “I’ll remember it if it’s important,” he once said.

“You forget more than you think,” his father replied. How right he was.

He flips through the photo album, and there’s dozens of pictures of his father and dog and himself and Akira, and he comes to the conclusion that this is not him. He tears through page after page, and not a single photo of him surfaces, no matter how many are labeled with his name in his father’s messy scrawl.

His mind is groggy, and he fumbles for what feels like hours to light a cigarette. By the time it’s smoked, he’s in the bathroom, sucking down pill after pill.

Before the lights in the room burn out or fade away or slip from view, he leaves himself, slumped up on the dusty floor of a bathroom, arm draped elegantly over the toilet, breath sticky with alcohol and nicotine and whatever drugs and pills he managed to consume, tears streaked across his face, wondering how the hell he fucked up this badly, and, more importantly, _what_ he even fucked up in the first place.

He wants to know what he did that was so terrible, so repulsive, that can justify his position here: alone and dying. He wishes he could take it all back, if only so Akira could hold him in his arms as he went.

* * *

He wakes to find himself leaned somewhere between the toilet and the wall, mind foggy and clouded with these obnoxious human vices. He’s reaching for the pain killers before he can even open his eyes to see the mess of pill bottles and glass and puke littering the ground, to numb the searing pain running up and down his body.

They’re hardly touching his tongue before he spits them up, and a sudden sting comes from the location of every major organ in his body.

Ryo’s not stupid; he knows what this is. A demon is taking over his body, eating it from the inside out and making it its own. It’s his own fault, as he veered so far from humanity after he presumed Akira’s death. He’s somewhat glad, either it’ll kill the both of them and he can finally be with him, or he’ll come out stronger than ever and avenge his death.

Screams enter his ears and it takes him an eternity to realize he’s the one releasing them; something in his brain is yelling “ _Wrong_!” a thousand times over.

They erupt from his back, his ankles, and his head, like knives slicing through skin. It’s not glamorous or beautiful, but it is utterly mystifying.

He’s surrounded by white light, brighter than the sun itself, and he has never wanted anything more than for this pain to stop.

He mumbles, through his mind filled with cotton and white noise, “Who the _fuck_ opened a window?”

His skin burns as though he’s standing in a fire, but it doesn’t hurt; it’s warm, and he remembers happy feelings when he rips down the sheet to look in the mirror, and he sees huge, blue eyes so light they’re almost clear, white hair cascading around perfect breasts, sparkling, unblemished skin, and a mouth made of music notes.

This grimy, repulsive bathroom has gone from a coffin to a paradise, by virtue of his presence within it.

He’s born anew, with six pairs of golden wings springing from the backside of his body; they take him up into the air, and he soars into the night sky, the demons flocking to him like a lighthouse, letting his light illuminate the empty world.

* * *

He’s sitting in the center of the shining dome when Akira arrives; in other words, the bed the pair shared countless times, in the room he thought he grew up in. The ceiling has long been blown off, and around the house is rubble of a civilization destroyed.

He realized he was alive long ago, and it was just an excuse to get him to realize his true form; looking at him now, he’s still gorgeous, almost perfect – although, now that he’s seen perfection, _become_ perfection, he recognizes the faults that cut his skin. He’s somewhere between, now, with tanned skin but white eyes, with human hands but demon’s claws, with regular legs but giant, black wings.

“You told them it was me,” Akira shouts, his tears making him difficult to understand.

Ryo’s voice is even, his lips wrapped around his teeth, which shine like daggers. “It took me forever to get these damn things hidden so I could appear on television.” His voice is like a cloudless sky, perfect and awe-inspiring; he indicates behind him, at the wings curling off his back. “You wouldn’t _believe_ the discomfort.”

“They hated me because of you.” He closes his eyes. “They died because of you. _You_ did this to them.”

“What? The humans’ deaths?” Ryo scowls. “They did this to themselves.”

“ _You_ made them.”

“It would’ve happened sooner or later. Just be glad you survived.”

“How could I be? You’re keeping me alive just to taunt me. I thought we were _friends_.”

“We were _so_ much _more_ than that.” Ryo’s face turns rotten. “You’re an idiot, sometimes, I swear. I would never do _anything_ to hurt you.”

“And yet you did all this? Killing _everybody_?”

“How else could we be together?”

“To…” Akira’s voice falters. “Together?”

“I loved you, Akira. More than anything. Everything I ever did was for you. To keep _you_ safe. I had you merge with the most powerful demon, just so you could be here, by my side.”

He’s silent and that look of pity Ryo despises so much covers his face. He can feel the anger welling up inside him. “I can’t let you get away with this.”

“So, what? What will you do to me?”

He sighs, “You really don’t regret any of it?”

With the look Akira is giving him now, that horrible look of rejection and hatred and disappointment, he can’t say that. He would almost give up this conflict with his father if it meant Akira could hold him in his arms and they could become one, a being of light and love. But this was a centuries long conflict, and far vaster than any human could comprehend.

“Why? Why did you do it?”

Ryo struggles for the words. “A god can do anything.”

Akira steps forward, slowly and then quicker, until he’s holding Ryo in his arms. “You’re not a God, you’re just a demon.” He looks into the big blue orbs that were once eyes. “You’re not a demon, you’re just a man.”

For a moment, Ryo’s form flickers into the human one he had come to know, but before it can take hold of him, he pushes back. “I am _none_ of those things,” he says bitterly. “But that is besides the point; you misunderstand me, Akira. I dare say you always have. A god can do anything, so why can’t I?”

“The thing you choose to do, with infinite power, is destroy?”

“It’s the only way I can prove to him I’m better,” his voice quakes. “I’m _worthy_.”

“Of what?”

“Of love! Of acceptance! Of anything besides pure hatred!”

Akira grabs his hands, moving carefully so their claws don’t clash with skin. “But I loved you. I accepted you. I fucking worshiped the ground you walked on, Ryo. Was that not enough for you? Was that a good enough reason to kill all the humans?”

“It’s not the same!” He reels backwards, face burning hot. “Why are you _still_ so loyal to them?”

He considers. “Because they’re good.”

“But they murder and hurt and destroy. They’re not good; they’re me, but there’s a million more of them and they’re capable of so much more damage. But _you_ , Akira, _you_ are so much better than all of them combined.”

“Humans are magnificent,” Akira says. “Not because they are born good, but because they can always choose to be good. They can do so many terrible things, like you, yes, but, unlike you, they can change.”

He’ll try one last time, if it’s all he can do. “Come with me. We’ll start a new era. You and I. Together.” Akira just stares at him. His throat shakes, “Please.” He feels the silence in his heart as it rips him up, starting at the center. He watches as his form somewhere between Devilman and human turns fully into the former. “You said you wouldn’t fight for their legacy, their honor, their pride.”

“But I’ll fight to avenge them.”

* * *

Their fight is ruthless, and Ryo comes out with pearly skin bleeding gold, bruised and broken as much as an indestructible, immortal being can be. Akira comes out much worse, without half his body and without a beating heart.

When he finally lies beside him, staring up at the endless void of a sky, broken up by a solid white moon, he says what’s on his mind. “The moon; it’s the only thing that hasn’t changed in these millions of years. The Earth was more beautiful then. Simpler. My father made it _so_ long ago. Longer than you can imagine. As you learned, the demons came about. He wasn’t happy about that, said they were too destructive. I opposed him; after all, they didn’t ask to be born, why blame them for a concept he created? They were _alive_ , they fought to _survive_ ; what makes humans so much better? I helped them fight him, and we won. We fucking _beat_ him.”

He intertwines his fingers with Akira’s. They’re cold now, and it startles him, this sudden change. “We prepared to hibernate for two million years, to rest before the final fight. I locked them in the ice, and I slept separately. But when I woke up, I saw what the humans did to Earth. Destroyed it, for their own gain. Overtook it, without any regard for others. I couldn’t forgive them, even if they asked for my forgiveness. They didn’t, of course. So I would destroy them. But I didn’t know them well enough yet.”

He turns to Akira and curls his head into his neck. “I had to find out their weaknesses. So I took your Ryo. I learned your secrets, your shortcomings, your fears. But I also learned your beauty, your art… your love.”

He breaks into tears as the realization sets in. He mourns for a millennium, and it’s still not enough to get over him, as his body turns to nothing – from a corpse to a skeleton to ash – in the shadow of a broken world.

“Please,” he cries to the heavens. “Please, let me go back. Let me fix this. I’ll do it right this time, I promise.” He takes a shaky breath; he hasn’t needed air in so long, but it feels right to do it now. “A world without Akira isn’t a world at all.”

And then the world is burning like fire, and he feels weightless, like he’s falling at a million miles per second; all around him, he can hear the sound of infinite silver bells, lulling him to sleep.

* * *

Ryo is seated upon a picnic blanket, red and white checkered, beside him sits a boy beckoning darkness, and he swears on his very existence that he’s been here, in this exact position and on this exact day, before.

The boy is leaned upon his forearms, so that he is almost totally reclined, and the sun surrounds him, but refuses to touch him, with beautiful, angelic light. Ryo’s own skin is crackling with white-hot energy, and he feels warmth deep in his bones, resembling the way one feels after they wake from a terrible nightmare or the reentering of a rocket to the Earth’s atmosphere.

“What’s wrong, Ryo?” Akira asks, and he can see the human in his eyes, but isn’t sure why that means something to him; he can feel unexplainable guilt gnawing on his heart. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“Don’t be silly,” he responds, and, not knowing why he does so, he cuddles up beside Akira, pushing him into the blanket so they lay beside each other, his head cradled between Akira’s chest and chin. He can hear his breathing and in its simplicity it is glorious. “I’m just happy to be here with you. I’ve missed you.”

“Missed me?” he laughs, his face stretching into a crooked grin. “We’ve been together all day.”

Ryo sighs and interlaces their fingers. “I know.”


End file.
